


Love bites

by DefaultJane



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Hunniper
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/F, Halloween, Halloween Special, Illustrations, NSFW Art, Necrophilia, Short Chapters, True Love, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaultJane/pseuds/DefaultJane
Summary: Somewhere beyond sadness, Hunnigan can't live without Helena and does everything in her power to bring Helena back... including looking up a former Umbrella-employee who might just know how to do that.Resident evil meets Dexter and Pet sematary and Santa Clarita diet and the opening of Mass effect 2… and other such stories.Original illustrations provided by my amazing artist friend Oceanmyhope (thank you so much for all the work you did to help me bring this project to life -pun intended, haha!), after effects by me.





	1. Prologue: The Fall

* * *

 

 

September 1st, 2020. Leon sat at a table in a diner, Sherry occupying the seat on the other side of it. He'd called her to ask if she'd heard anything from Hunnigan recently and her response didn't surprise him. It seemed the former intelligence liaison was avoiding everyone.

“I’m worried about her,” Leon confessed to Sherry. The fact that Hunnigan had resigned hadn’t really come as surprise to anyone, but it was beginning to seem she was determined to disappear from the face of the Earth. She’d stopped answering his calls and when he’d visited her house, she’d merely told him to leave.

It was her birthday today, lucky number forty. Or, as it seemed to be for a lot people, the dreaded forty. Leon kind of would’ve wanted to wish her a happy birthday, but he seriously doubted Hunnigan was in the mood to hear it.

“Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief and she’s always been a private person, it doesn’t surprise me that she would choose to shut everyone out while she recovers,” Sherry commented and while Leon knew she was right, it did nothing to ease his concern.

“It’s been a year, if she was going to bounce back on her own, she would’ve by now. She needs help.”

“Maybe, but you can’t force it on her. Need I remind you what it was like when it was obvious you needed help yet you insisted you were fine?”

“No, you don’t, which is exactly why I know I  _have to_  force it on her,” Leon muttered, stood up and exited the diner. Sherry didn’t try to talk him out of it or stop him, it would be pointless, and deep down she was hoping he would manage to break through Hunnigan’s walls. If he wouldn’t be able to do it, Sherry doubted anyone could.

* * *

Leon got out of the car and jogged across the yard in the pouring rain, instinctively covering his head with his arm even though he knew it was useless to do so. By the time he reached the door of Hunnigan’s ranch-style house, he was drenched. To his surprise, Hunnigan answered the door instead of just yelling at him to go away. Granted, she didn’t seem very happy to see him.

“What do you want?”  
“I just wanted to check up on you. You haven’t been answering my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he muttered. Judging from her disheveled appearance, she’d been busy drowning her sorrows and sleeping the day away. He remembered vividly what that was like. He couldn’t deny that there were times when he very much missed doing that himself.

“Like you’re one to judge me,” Hunnigan scoffed and Leon sighed ruefully.  
“I’m not judging, I’m just worried, that’s all.”

“I’m fine,” Hunnigan said and was about to close the door on him, but he stuck his foot between it.

“Damn it, Hunnigan, you’re not the only one who lost Helena!” he snapped. Hunnigan opened the door a little bit further, took a step forward and shoved Leon back. He stumbled a little, not managing to regain his balance and landed flat on his ass on the ground as Hunnigan slammed the door shut.

“Good talk,” he sighed heavily.

***


	2. The Lazarus-project

Hunnigan had spent her life struggling to distance herself from the things associated with her family and how they’d once upon a time come upon their fortune. All these years she hadn’t even thought about the substantial trust fund left for her by grandparents because she knew it was drug money from way back when cocaine had been the family business which had later expanded to pharmaceuticals and dealings with companies like Umbrella. Some of it legal, most of it not.

She hadn’t needed the money, she’d made her own way back when she’d built search engines, long before Google had become a thing. She’d invested the money she’d made selling them to government agencies, and over time that all had accumulated into a net worth that easily made her one of the richest women on the planet, even if no one knew it. It certainly didn’t show in her lifestyle, and she’d always preferred it that way.

A year ago, she’d finally found a worthy cause to spend most of her money on, starting from burning through the drug money. The irony of it had amused her greatly.

Hunnigan entered the facility purchased and set up just for one purpose alone, to carry out and complete project Lazarus. She had never imagined she’d be here in just one year, she’d prepared to wait for decades with no guarantees of project Lazarus ever coming to completion. But, it truly did pay off to have essentially unlimited resources and an eye for talent.

The doctor went by the name of Jane Deaux and Hunnigan had no doubt it was an alias, a step above Jane Doe or Jane Smith, but just enough to confuse the most curious types who would question such a name. The fact that Deaux apparently hadn’t even existed prior to 2005 only served to confirm that the woman had some major secrets in her past. It had taken a lot of digging and Hunnigan had needed to pull a lot of strings, and even with her connections and resources, finding Deaux had taken a lot of effort.

The only reason Deaux had agreed to work for Hunnigan was simply the fact that Hunnigan asked no questions, instead she handed over the resources Deaux requested and told her to go ahead and do whatever was necessary. A refreshing way to work for someone who was used to being restricted by protocol, ethics and funding.

“We are organic matter and destined to die and rot,” Deaux said, the years she’d spent in the US having done nothing to soften her accent. Hunnigan couldn’t place it, not quite, but it was edgy and hard with subtle nuances of something softer. If Hunnigan had to guess, she’d say Nordic or Scandinavian, but that was as far as she was able to narrow it down. Not that it even mattered.

“Not what I’d hoped to hear,” Hunnigan muttered, mentally preparing herself for a disappointment, but Deaux smiled. It wasn’t an attractive smile, not anymore. Maybe prior to too much plastic surgery it had been. It didn't look particularly friendly either, it made Hunnigan think of a sneer rather than a smile.

“Jesus wept,” Deaux chuckled and unlocked the door leading to the lab. Hunnigan quirked an eyebrow, not sure what Deaux was referring to or why it should matter, or if it was even a reference to anything important. Saying Deaux was eccentric was an understatement of the century.

“I sincerely hope you didn’t call me over here just to tell me that.”  
“You’re not familiar with the Bible, are you Ms. Hunnigan?”

“Mrs.,” she corrected, stubbornly thinking that reminding herself and the world of her marital status and refusing to accept the title "widow" somehow could erase the fact that her wife was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

“And indeed, I am not familiar with the Bible and I fail to see why it matters.”  
“It doesn’t, I’m just being dramatic,” Deaux shrugged as she continued to lead the way to the room where her team was waiting to proudly present project Lazarus to their patron.

“She’s sedated. As expected, the awakening was rather violent.”  
“Casualties?”

“One, but we all knew the risks, he should’ve been more careful. We’ve been vaccinated since, it should prevent her from attacking again… in theory,” Deaux dismissed callously.

“And the vaccine?” Hunnigan asked and turned to look at Deaux who was already holding a syringe. Hunnigan removed her jacket and rolled up her sleeve, extending her arm our so that Deaux could inject her.

“For now, we’ve only produced one batch, but if there are others you wish to have vaccinated, we can create more.”  
“I doubt it’ll be necessary, it’s not like I intend to expose her to many others, but I’ll remember that,” Hunnigan said. She would remember, but she would never need it. Helena would remain her dirty little secret... just like she'd been way back when Hunnigan had first seduced the younger woman.

Though, she did feel that the word "seduced" was a bit too much. It hadn't been about seduction, it had been about figuring out how to be honest about the fact that the one person on the planet you weren't supposed to get along with was the one who made you feel the friction which would grow into a fire, the one who made you feel alive, the one who made you realize she was the one you'd been searching for without ever realizing it.

“Now… I don’t suppose I need to tell you, but she won’t be the same as she was before, you do understand that?” Deaux asked and Hunnigan sighed.   
  
Of course she understood, she’d known it all along. She’d seen enough to know what to expect. Helena was gone, she had been for over a year. The Helena project Lazarus had brought back was a bio-weapon, not a woman anymore, not really. But none of that mattered, she just wanted Helena back.

“I know.”  
“I’m just making sure we’re on the same page here as far as expectations go.”

“Believe me, my expectations were never high. Take me to her.”

Contrary to what Deaux’s dramatic introductions would’ve led one to imagine, there was no grand unveiling event. Instead, Hunnigan was unceremoniously led to a room that hosted only one occupant. Helena lay in the bed, her arms and legs restrained, her skin unnaturally pale, her lips the dead shade of blue. 

“I can’t tell you how she’ll react to you or if she can be reasoned with, I’m just the mad scientist, you’re the expert when it comes to behavior. I don’t need to tell you that if she remains feral, you will have to put her down.”

“You’re right; you don’t need to tell me,” Hunnigan glared at Deaux. The reality of the situation was something Hunnigan had taken very seriously from day one.

“One more thing. You’ll need to give her an injection of this daily,” Deaux then said and handed Hunnigan a case filled with syringes. “That is one month’s supply, arrangements have been made to have one delivered to you at the beginning of every month for however long you’ll be needing it,” she then said.

“What is it?”  
“It keeps her from rotting completely. Feeding her will help with that too.”

“And if I forget an injection?”  
“…she dies. Again.”

“Anything else?” Hunnigan then asked and Deaux pursed her lips.  
“If she gets injured, she won’t heal so try to avoid her getting hurt. Then there’s the matter of feeding her, but I guess you’ve already thought of that.”

“It’ll be taken care of,” Hunnigan muttered and Deaux didn’t ask how, she didn’t care and it didn’t even matter to her really.

Hunnigan reached to feel Helena’s cheek with the back of her hand. She had expected Helena to be cold for obvious reasons, but the actual feel of her skin against Hunnigan’s own and the realization of just how cold Helena truly was still somehow took her by surprise.

Hunnigan inhaled sharply when Helena suddenly opened her eyes. The moment she recognized Hunnigan, Helena lunged at her. Or tried to; the restraint strapped across her chest and the ones around her arms and ankles kept her from moving much on the bed.

“That’s strange, you were vaccinated, she shouldn’t be hostile toward you,” Deaux frowned.  
“That’s not what that was. She’s just angry at me.”

How could she not be? Hunnigan was the one who had sent Helena in to that mess of a mission based on unverified intel. She’d been in a hurry, the twenty-four-hour window was closing fast and the intel was coming in too slowly, she’d had to decide; either send in a team or let it go. She’d chosen the mission and that had gotten Helena and four others killed.

Or perhaps that wasn’t why Helena was angry. No one asked to be born, similarly Hunnigan hadn’t wasted a second even considering that Helena wouldn’t want to be brought back. Especially not like this. Hunnigan  _knew_  that, she  _knew_  Helena wouldn’t want this. Helena had specifically told Hunnigan that she wanted to be cremated to prevent exactly this, she didn't want there to be any chance of her ever being brought back as a zombie like she'd seen happen to many others during her career. But this wasn’t for Helena. Hunnigan liked to label it love, but the truth was that it was just the purest display of her own selfishness.

She couldn’t live without Helena, she’d wanted her back, and she’d worked to bring her back no matter what the cost and no matter what the consequence, and to hell with ethics and morals and other made-up boundaries that were in place to judge harshly those who would happily do terrible things like bring back dead loved ones. She didn’t care how selfish it was, she didn’t care who would think she’d lost her mind for doing this, she didn’t care about any of it, she only cared about getting Helena back. Even if it meant doing exactly the opposite of what Helena had specifically told her to do.

“I know you’re angry… it’s okay,” Hunnigan whispered and leaned over Helena and kissed the other woman’s forehead softly. Cold.  
“I’m gonna take you home,” Hunnigan then said, her voice almost inaudible, the words disappearing into the kiss she planted on Helena’s lips. So cold.

She wished she’d spent more time kissing those lips while they were still red. But no, there’d always been something else she’d needed to focus on. The agency, the missions, the intel, the endless reports.

And all for fucking what?


	3. The Homecoming

“I’m so happy you’re back,” Hunnigan said as she settled to lie next to Helena. She’d never expected to be able to share the bed with her again. For the past year or so, all she’d had was a bunch of Helena’s T-shirts she’d nuzzled while trying to fall asleep, but it hadn’t worked, it hadn't been enough. She’d then sealed them in plastic bags to ensure Helena’s scent wouldn’t fade away. Taking one out and inhaling the smell of it had become an indulgence, a guilty pleasure.

“…and I’m so sorry about what happened to you,” Hunnigan muttered as she ran her fingers over the wound in Helena’s thigh.   
  
Deaux had patched it up with something, could’ve been superglue for all Hunnigan knew, but the fact was it would never heal. It wasn’t even a big wound, just a single stab, a deep one. She’d gotten it while engaged in hand-to-hand combat. She’d bled out in minutes. At least her death had been quick and relatively painless, that was some comfort.

Helena didn’t react. Maybe she never would. Hunnigan realized her earlier statement hadn’t been entirely true. She  _wanted_  desperately to be happy that Helena was back, but she genuinely wasn’t. This wasn’t what she’d wanted… not exactly. She’d known Helena wouldn’t be the same, but she’d thought that it wouldn’t matter, that having her here would be enough. It wasn’t.

The little things were all wrong. The sounds of life were gone; Helena didn’t breathe, her heart didn’t beat. Her skin was cold and colorless. She didn’t talk, she barely moved much. Her body was there, but the piece that had made Helena who she was, her soul, it seemed to be gone. Hunnigan could’ve built and programmed an android that could’ve passed for Helena more convincingly than the actual Helena did now.

Maybe she hadn’t even actually been angry at Hunnigan before, maybe it was just a hostile reaction brought on by the virus because that was what it was designed to do, a bio-weapon was what Hunnigan had reduced Helena to. Hunnigan hoped it was anger, anger would mean there were memories, emotions, some glint of Helena’s personality still in that shell and maybe it could be brought back. But looking at Helena now, she couldn't be certain of anything.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about so many things, you have no idea.”

Helena grunted and Hunnigan turned to look at her in surprise. She  _was_  angry. Hunnigan had never thought she’d be so happy that Helena was angry at her. She tightened her grip on Helena and pressed herself against her.

“Yes I am. I regret countless of things and wish I could fix them now, but that’s something I can’t do because that can’t be bought. I’m sorry we never took that trip to South Africa… or went away on a proper honeymoon for that matter. I’m sorry I never let you put pineapple on a pizza,” Hunnigan tried joking a little. Helena didn’t smile. Of course she didn’t. Hunnigan sighed heavily.

“…I’m sorry we never had a child. I know you wanted to, and I’m the one who kept putting it off because I was always too busy with my own stupid bullshit. I’m sorry I took away your chance to be a mother, especially because I know you would’ve made a great mother. I’m sorry about everything, I’m sorry I… essentially ruined your life just by being there,” Hunnigan sniffled and then let out a rueful chuckle through tears.

“I’ve had a lot of time to do nothing but look back and the more I think about it, the more I wonder why you ever even wanted to be with me let alone why you loved me. I was always so selfish, I don’t understand why you put up with me. Well, I guess that hasn’t changed, I’m still selfish, now probably more so than I ever was before,” she muttered and exhaled deeply. She was quiet for a long moment before sitting up.

Helena didn’t react, but she watched her. Hunnigan reached to gently cup Helena’s cheek with her hand.

“Are you hungry?” she asked softly and smiled a little. Helena looked away and Hunnigan knew. She was hungry, but she didn’t want to eat, she was ashamed of it. To Hunnigan, that obvious pain and embarrassment were a good sign, they meant Helena still felt something and remembered. She took it as a sign that she  _could_  get Helena back… somehow, one day, maybe. There was a chance.

“It’s okay. Come on,” Hunnigan encouraged in a whisper and took Helena’s hand, gently tugging on it and Helena followed.


	4. The Feeding

The idea had come to her while watching  _Dexter_ , but unlike Dexter, Hunnigan hadn’t decorated the “kill room” with photos of the victims to remind the perpetrator why they were here and deserved to be here. Useless dramatics for her.

The room in question was her basement, quite recently remodeled for a new purpose. Soundproofed and the walls and floors had been rebuilt from materials that were easier to clean and treated with chemicals that served to help with the same purpose. She could grab the hose and wash it all off just like that. In theory anyway, she’d find out if it worked that way in reality soon enough.

Also unlike Dexter, Hunnigan didn’t go out to capture her victims herself. Instead, she dug into the national databases she still had access to (what a convenient oversight, not that she wouldn’t have been able to hack her way in if need be) and she went to look for people who had gotten away with heinous crimes because of technicalities or sloppy handling of evidence.   
  
Once she’d found her target, she forwarded the intel to a former colleague who worked in the private sector nowadays, calling himself Fade because his specialty was making people disappear. He didn’t ask questions, just delivered the goods, got paid and left. Just the way Hunnigan liked it.

Today’s former perpetrator and current victim was a gentleman who was quite the consumer of sex tourism. Hunnigan felt no sympathy for him, rather she was almost amused by the obvious confusion on his face when he came to and realized he had no idea where he was.

Hunnigan watched him for a while through the screen and when he was becoming visibly agitated, she went to unlock the door to the basement.

“What is this?” he yelled as he took a few steps toward the stairs, but stopped in his tracks when Helena entered the room. There was something off about her, and even though he couldn’t say what exactly, he could sense the danger he was in, an instinct granted to every living being.

“You are going to die because over the past couple of years, you’ve abused at least seventeen kids, possibly more,” Hunnigan responded matter-of-factly, closed the door and locked it before he had a chance to even try pleading his case.   
  
Hunnigan went back to her laptop and focused on the CCTV feed from the basement. Helena didn’t waste time playing with her food, but Hunnigan had a feeling that on some level she’d understood what this man’s crimes were because it was looking kind of obvious that Helena was letting him suffer. She could’ve hit an artery and be done with it in minutes, but instead she was taking her time digging into him, making sure he stayed alive for as long as possible. Hunnigan felt oddly proud.


	5. The Cleansing

Once she’d put what Helena hadn’t managed to eat into the freezer for later meals, Hunnigan cleaned up the basement meticulously, the smells of bleach and blood mottled together, forming a nauseating combination that could only be described as crime scene stench. Or, at least that’s what she imagined crime scenes mostly smelled like, she’d never been to one before her basement had been turned into one. Once everything was in order, she went to check the drain and cleaned it too from any blood that might have gotten trapped there. Can’t be too careful.

Helena stood in the corner, water dripping from her hair and fingertips, her bloody clothes in a garbage bag beside her.

“You know, you could help me clean,” Hunnigan said and Helena turned to look at her, but that was all the reaction she had.

“That was a joke. You never did that when you were alive, why would you now?” Hunnigan jested. “Remember that time we bickered over that milk carton for almost a month? You’d just left it out on the table and I decided I wouldn’t put it away, so it just stood there for weeks and finally I had to get rid of it because I couldn’t stand the smell anymore,” she continued and stood up after finishing with her cleaning, went to Helena and paused to stand in front of her.

“Remember?” she prodded quietly. Helena humphed and it sounded almost like an amused scoff.

“Are you still in there? Please tell me you are,” Hunnigan whispered and reached to cup Helena’s face with her hand. Helena didn’t make a sound, but she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into Hunnigan’s palm in a manner quite similar to how a cat would push its head to your palm when you reach to pet it, and that was all the answer she needed to give.

“Come on, let’s get you properly cleaned up,” Hunnigan then said and led Helena upstairs and into the bathroom, taking the garbage bag of bloody clothes with her. She’d need to burn them later.

* * *

Helena sat in the tub, obediently still and silent as Hunnigan scrubbed the remaining blood from her skin, thoroughly washed her hair and cleaned the undersides of Helena’s fingernails. Once she was done, she asked Helena to stand up and proceeded to drain the tub before moving to stand in it herself as well to take a quick shower.

Hunnigan exhaled sharply when Helena suddenly moved, her arms finding their way over Hunnigan’s shoulders and wrapping around them slowly and somewhat awkwardly, clumsily even. It wasn't like she was consciously choosing to do that, it was more about muscle memory, triggered by a glimmer of recalling having done this before, that this was what she had always done in this situation and under these circumstances, and should do now.

“Okay… okay,” Hunnigan said, her voice merely a soft breath as she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around Helena’s midsection and held onto her, nuzzling the side of Helena’s neck, the dead woman’s skin somewhat warm now only because of the hot water cascading over it, but it was enough to help Hunnigan falsely convince herself that this would be enough. It would have to be, this was as good as it got.

Helena slid her hands down along Hunnigan’s back and trailed her lips over Hunnigan’s jawline and down the side of her neck, Hunnigan tensing up when she felt Helena’s teeth nibble at her skin, but at the same time, she found herself instinctively tilting her head to the side to offer Helena better access to her neck, like this were just another day and like these were just the usual little love bites Helena had always given her.

“Agh!” Hunnigan exclaimed and pulled back when Helena broke the skin and the stinging pain just above the collarbone registered. Helena licked the drop of blood from her lower lip, her gesture unapologetic, but the expression on her face on the contrary. She was sorry, it was an accident, she didn't mean to, she just couldn't stop herself from doing it, not now, not in this state when biting into flesh had become the number one instinct and priority despite what she wanted.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” Hunnigan said, stepped closer to Helena again and concentrated on just showering quickly before shutting the water off. She helped towel Helena off and walked her back to the bedroom, hoping to capture some of the warmth left behind from the hot shower by covering Helena with a blanket.

“You know… and I shouldn’t find this amusing, but I do because… it’s kind of ironic. I mean, usually necrophiliacs do this the other way, don’t they? Make living people take cold baths to lower their body temperature so that they feel cold and appear more dead-like,” Hunnigan said as she got under the covers as well and pressed her body against Helena’s. Temporary as the warmth would be, it was comforting. It was the closest she’d gotten to having Helena completely back yet.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, even you have to appreciate the irony. Besides, at least I’m a romantic necrophiliac, that should make it a little better, right?” Hunnigan said and Helena let out what Hunnigan considered her current version of amused scoffs. A tiny humph, an imitation of a breath accompanied by the tiniest of twitches in the corner of her mouth. That was how she laughed now. Maybe in time she'd re-learn to do more.

She obviously had memories, instincts, attachments to situations that triggered certain behaviors, she evidently _could_ do that... the question was would it remain nothing more than mimicry brought on by phantom pains or would it be something Helena would do by making a conscious decision.

Hunnigan moved her leg so that it was resting over Helena’s waist, her arm wrapped around Helena’s midsection as she scooted closer, desperately wanting to preserve the warmth and keep it there with her own body heat.

“Do you remember what you told me we should do before ever made love for the first time?” Hunnigan asked and Helena surprised her by actually nodding. She’d told Hunnigan that they should masturbate in front of each other so that they could see what the other person liked and copy their technique. At first, Hunnigan had thought Helena had been joking, her intention maybe to rattle her cage a little because Hunnigan admittedly could come across as a bit of a prude.

“…do you remember what I like?” she then asked and Helena gripped the back of Hunnigan’s knee, tugging on her a little and Hunnigan eased into the movement, rising to straddle Helena and scooting higher when Helena wrapped her arms around Hunnigan’s thighs and pulled her upward until she was straddling Helena’s head.

She remembered. Oh, how well she remembered.

* * *

 _"Nights in white satin"_ by The Moody Blues was playing. Hunnigan knew it was a long shot, but she'd decided it would be worth trying.

It had been the first song they'd danced to. At the agency Christmas party back what felt like an eternity ago. Only, then the song had been performed... well, butchered really, by drunk-Leon who'd decided to take advantage of the karaoke system at the venue.

Helena hadn't said anything back then either. Instead, she'd had her arms around Hunnigan, she'd swayed them back and forth slowly to the song's rhythm, giving Hunnigan the warmest, the most affectionate and at the same time most intense stare Hunnigan had ever received. It had been enough. She'd never _had_ to say a word.  
  
Hunnigan wanted to see it again in Helena's eyes, today, even after everything. She'd decided she wouldn't say anything, she wouldn't remind Helena aside from playing the song. She wanted to know if Helena still recognized it, if she was still there.  
  
Helena no longer smiled, laughed, cried. She no longer spoke. But she didn't have to do any of those things, not now, not when she'd been alive. That one look filled with the passion, love, and affection she felt for Hunnigan had always been all she'd had to give to assure her _._

The look was still there.


	6. The Last Meal

October 31st, 2035.

 _Bitter irony,_  Hunnigan thought as she coughed up rust-colored phlegm. She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life and still, somehow, she’d ended up with lung cancer. When her doctor had first spotted it over a year ago, it had been in its early stages, but she’d refused treatment. Fifteen years was a long time to live with the amount of secrets she’d lived with, it was time to put an end to it. It was amazing she’d managed it this far.

She’d never really been one for grandiose dramatic gestures, but she figured that since she was given the opportunity, she might as well make it a scene worth seeing. Halloween had always been the one and only time of the year when Hunnigan had been able to go outside with Helena. The few people they had to run into in the middle of the night always thought it was a very convincing costume and an impressive act; the pet zombie on a leash. Literally.

At first, they both had hated the mandatory restraint, struggling to get Helena to accept it was like trying to apply logic while bargaining with a toddler combined with the struggle of forcing a cat to wear a harness. No matter how many times you told either that they wouldn’t get to go outside without it, they always put up a fight.

There’d been times when Helena had bared her teeth at Hunnigan, times when Helena had become agitated and frustrated. Usually when she saw something that triggered a memory of who she had been and with it came the desperate realization that she could never be that woman again. With that came anger toward her creator. In a past life said creator had been God. Now, it was Hunnigan. But unlike the version of God so many people believed in, Hunnigan'd had the decency to not even expect gratitude from Helena for her prolonged existence.

During the past week or so Hunnigan had intentionally let Helena go hungry to ensure she’d be up to the task Hunnigan had for her today. It was finally beginning to show, Helena was ready to cross the line she’d spent fifteen years actively keeping herself from crossing. The surprising side effect of fresh meat had been that it had somehow kept Helena from deteriorating to this stage, but she was going feral now.

“Sit with me, sweetheart,” Hunnigan said softly and Helena stopped her agitated pacing and went to her, snuggling closer in a familiar way, but her discomfort and internal struggle were clearly visible.

“I know, it’s okay,” Hunnigan assured her. She took out a syringe Deaux’s team had sent over at her request. A lethal injection of a sort for anyone afflicted with Helena’s condition, a cure for the virus which would kill it and thus result in a complete shutdown of the remaining functions that had kept Helena alive… so to speak.

“I’m sorry I just decided this for you and never asked you what you wanted. I’m sorry I forced you to come back, I don’t know if you were… in pain or… sad, I just... I hope that you believe me when I say I didn’t want to hurt you and that I love you, I always have... maybe a bit too much even,” Hunnigan said quietly as she stuck the needle into Helena’s arm and injected the vaccine.   
  
It would take a few minutes for it to take effect. Plenty of time. Helena didn’t resist even though on some level she must’ve realized what was going on. That only affirmed Hunnigan’s suspicion that Helena was tired of this all too.

“Come here, baby,” she whispered and put her arms around Helena’s shoulders, gently tugging on her as she settled to lie on the couch, pulling Helena on top of her. She began to trail her lips down Hunnigan’s chest, her cold hands finding their way under Hunnigan’s shirt and up to her breasts. Once upon a time Hunnigan had flinched at the cold hands. Not anymore.

“Helena,” she breathed her name and balled her hand into a fist, lightly tugging on Helena’s hair to stop her. When she looked up, she looked confused and Hunnigan noticed something else. She was drooling, but for all the wrong reasons. She was starving.

“Not today, sweetheart, I’m too tired,” Hunnigan whispered with a smile and Helena slowly climbed back up, resting her weight on her arms as she hovered over Hunnigan, a thick string of saliva running down her chin and pooling in the hollow of Hunnigan’s throat.

“I just want a few lovebites... can you do that do that for me, love?” she asked and Helena looked like she would’ve wanted to say no, but she didn’t have it in her anymore.

Hunnigan smiled and tilted her head back, exposing her neck to Helena. She ran her fingers through Helena’s hair and kept quietly assuring her that it was okay, that she wanted her to do this.

Hunnigan closed her eyes and inhaled sharply when Helena’s teeth broke her skin and sunk into the flesh of her throat, ripping through the artery as Helena surrendered to her unnatural instinct to feed with abandon.

Hunnigan wrapped her arms around Helena and held onto her, still smiling as the darkness and lightheadedness brought on by blood loss began to drown her and drift her away.

_I love you._

__

 


	7. Epilogue: The Goodbye

 

 _“Hello, Leon,”_  Hunnigan began on the video she’d left for him. She’d known he’d be the one to walk in to the scene, he’d been a loyal and a good friend, always checking up on her even when she’d tried pushing him away. He would be the first to come check up on her now too, she was certain of it.

 _“I’m not sure what exactly you saw because I can’t tell how this’ll play out in the end, but I’m assuming it wasn’t pretty… I can only imagine,”_ she continued. She was right, it hadn’t been pretty… but at the same time, yes it had. There was a strangely romantic overtone to the scene, it was almost beautiful in its gruesomeness.

Helena hadn’t remained functional for much longer after breaking the artery which had caused Hunnigan to exsanguinate, she hadn’t eaten much beyond that one bite, leaving both of their bodies more or less intact. They were locked in an embrace on the couch. Hunnigan was smiling, a genuinely happy smile, like she'd waited for this for a long time now.

 _“I hope you’re not too traumatized. I’m sure you think I was crazy and sick… and, frankly, you aren’t wrong. After all, I_ am _a necrophile degenerate,_ _”_  Hunnigan chuckled on the screen and shook her head a little. Leon covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the quiet whimper that threatened to escape his throat.

_“There are external hard drives in my safe, I’ll leave the combination for you in my desk drawer. On those, you will find video files which might help solve… quite a few disappearances. I don’t envy anyone who must watch through those, I watched it all happen live. But it was necessary to sustain Helena. For the record and in case you are wondering... and I know you are, the answer is no; I never shared Helena's meals, quite the contrary, I turned pescatarian rather quickly after the first few feedings I witnessed. But believe me, all those people had it coming. I have detailed files on them included, you can see for yourself that they were bad people.”_

“Oh, God, Hunnigan, what have you done?” Leon muttered into his palm. He couldn’t understand how Hunnigan had managed to act so normal all these years. Hell, she’d even had him come over for dinner now and then and he’d never noticed anything. He wondered where Helena had been during those evenings. Probably in the basement. And somehow, nothing in Hunnigan’s behavior had even implied she would’ve gone as far as to do something like this.

 _“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper speech prepared, I’m kind of making this up as I go along. I was never good at saying good-bye… as I’m sure you can tell by the fact that I lived with a dead woman for fifteen years,”_  Hunnigan laughed softly.

“Why, Hunnigan?” Leon asked uselessly in the quiet room. “Why didn’t you just talk to me, why did you do this?”

 _“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but the answers are rather obvious so I won’t waste time explaining in detail why I did any of this,”_  Hunnigan spoke as if she’d somehow known what he’d say.

She was quiet for almost a full minute before she looked back up into the camera and smiled.

 _“Let’s just use one of the oldest excuses in history,”_  she said, reaching toward the camera, preparing to shut it off.

_“I did it because I love her.”_

 

 


End file.
